LOCI Twas The Night Before Christmas
by AMDonahue
Summary: This is an entire ensemble piece, meant to be tongueincheek. Please read, review and rant. It's appreciated. Thank you.


Law and Order: Criminal Intent

A Christmas Carol - December 24, 2007

_T'was the night before Christmas and all through New York_

_Not a creature was stirring not even a perp._

_Two art thieves had broke into the MoMA with care_

_In the hopes of stealing some artwork most rare._

_Logan meets a women who's not what she seems_

_And Bishop is on a rooftop with Detective Eames._

_Ross gets a visitor, who he hadn't seen in years_

_And we find out that Goren is actually cooking impaired._

_They solve their crimes and New York is saved_

_Expect for Falacci, if only her in-laws behaved…_

_Enjoy…_

**New York's Museum of Modern Art**

**7:41 p.m.**

"It was over here, right here." A distraught curator pointed at the bare floor. She was on the verge of sobbing again. "It's an antique, one of the few items Russia allows out of the country."

"Thank you, Mrs. Tully. Please go with this officer, and he'll take your statement." Eames bent down to inspect the floor. There was nothing there; she just wanted to look busy while the woman walked away. Bishop came over to her. Eames rose and said, "So someone broke in here on Christmas eve to steal a manger display?"

"Not just any, it's a royal antique that dates back to 1567. It's an artifact of the Czars and property of the government of Russia." She stopped and looked at Eames, "I'm assuming they'll want it back."

"Right." Eames exhaled. She looked around, none of the doors seemed jarred open, and the windows were still intact. "No alarm?"

Bishop shook her head, she was looking around. Eames noticed they were making the same fatal flaw. Cops look at their eye level, criminals look everywhere else. They made eye contact as they thought the same thing and turned their heads skyward.

Above them shone the moon and the stars and what should have been the glass of the skylight, except it had been removed. "Good old fashioned cat-burglar. Well, now I'm less mad about working Christmas Eve and Day." She looked at Bishop, "I'm pulling this shift to play nice, why are you here?"

"I don't celebrate Christmas." She was still looking up at the skylight, Bishop never could make small talk. "So any guesses as to who did this?"

"You mean, other than the Grinch?" Eames asked in her famous sarcastic tone.

**Falacci Residence**

**6:23 p.m.**

"The Grinch Who Stole Christmas will return after these messages." The TV announced from the other room. Falacci, who is Nola at home, was trying desperately to remove her nail polish as time ran out.

"Boys, turn that down, okay?" She called in, the two boys said yes, but she didn't hear a change in the television's decibel.

"Honey, are you okay, you sound on edge?" Mike walked into the kitchen.

The turkey was dressed and sitting on the island. The potatoes were ready to go into the oven for one last turn, Nola had extra gravy warming on the stove top and two pies in the oven. "I'm fine, I just want to get this stuff off before your mom shows up."

Mike laughed, "you know they don't care about your fingernails."

"Yeah, you're sister said they made me look like a whore." Nola scrubbed furiously at her left hand, the right hand finally completely. While she did that, she moved across the kitchen to the counter. "Could you bring the turkey into the dining room. I want to make room for the cheese and crackers here."

"She didn't say you looked like a whore, she said that the polish looked whore-ish, which I might add is a distinction you gave that color yourself." He moved over to the turkey, picking it up moved it into the dining room, just as the bell rang.

"Got it!" Toby, her elder son yelled and ran to the door. Opening it he then yelled, "Grandma!"

Nola moved out of the kitchen, and removed her apron. She smoothed down the legs of her black cigarette pants and moved into the hallway. "Mrs. Poirier, Mr. Poirier, it's so nice to see you both again."

"Nola, oh." She ran her disapproving gaze down Nola's body and looked back up, "I can watch the boys while you dress, dear."

"I am dressed." Nola said, but the party had already begun to move into the living room and past her. "Oh, matching sweaters." She said, trying to contain her sarcasm.

"We brought one for you too!" Estella, Michael's sister said. "What happened to your hands? They are covered in gook?" She grabbed Nola's hand the polish almost removed, but staining some of her skin, "have you been cooking with all that on your hands, that's not sanitary." She said loudly enough to attract the attention of her mother.

"Everything's fine. Why don't you all sit here, and I'll bring out some crackers and cheese. Mike, can you get the wine?" Nola began to run back into the kitchen to get away from the family… for their sakes.

"Not until you scrub those hands clean!" Mrs. Poirier called after her.

**Goren Residence**

**11:27 p.m.**

Robert Goren scrubbed his hands clean and was finally able to close the window to his apartment; the smoke had drifted out and took all of the heat with it. He glowered at the burnt carcass sitting in the trash as he sat down at his kitchen island. Goren took out his checkbook and tried to go over his financials again. His mother's illness had emptied out his account and without pay it was going to be a bad month. He wondered if there was some way to get Ross to try to re-instate him without looking like he helped. His thumb still hurt.

**One Police Plaza**

**8:29 p.m.**

Ross sat in his office, trying to figure out a way to get Goren back on the force without making it look like he had actually helped when a knock came to his door. Looking up he couldn't believe who he saw.

"Peter!" He exclaimed and rose to greet him as the man walked in, "Peter Donahue. I can't believe it."

"I know!" Peter said and they hugged. He looked at Ross and smiled. "Good to see you old timer."

"I haven't seen you in, what, fifteen years? What brings you in here?" Ross gestured to the seat and leaned on his desk.

"I found myself in the neighborhood." He smiled and laughed. "Honestly I was dropping off an addict we picked up in Vice for your precinct. Thought maybe that profiler of yours, Goren, could take a run at him."

Ross grimaced, "Goren's suspended, actually."

Peter looked up at Ross, the shrugged, "too bad. He's a strange case."

"Certainly is."

"I'm not talking about Goren."

"I am."

They laughed with each other. "The addict witnessed something, could be pretty big and help us bring down a large smuggling ring. But no one can get a word out of him. I heard this Goren character can get people to talk, despite his other shortcomings."

"I wish I could help, but my hands are tied." Ross said sinking into his chair behind the desk. "Chief of D's isn't in the mood to make a deal right now, and I have to play it safe."

Peter chuckled and looked at Ross like he was crazy, "I don't remember you talking like that when we were partnered."

Ross rolled his eyes and sat back in his head, he was enjoying the memories of being a new detective, "well that was a million years ago, when the dinosaurs roamed the earth. Times have changed, and you have to play it safer now."

Peter's smiled faded a little, but not enough for Ross to notice.

"You remember that time we were chasing a perp for possession," Ross leaned forward on his desk and spoke with an unusual animation. "You were calling and calling, 'slow down' and I just kept running like hell thinking you didn't want me to outrun you and BAM I run straight into him!"

The two men laughed fully. Ross actually slapping his hand on his desk.

"You broke your nose, and his!" Peter said, and the two men laughed even harder. "Then the captain wanted to know why you two looked so beat up."

Ross was trying to stop laughing but it wasn't happening, "oh, God. That's right he pulled us in and read us the riot act! We couldn't convince him it was an accident."

They slowly calmed down and Peter became more thoughtful, "yeah, but AIB came in and he had our backs all the way. Captain wouldn't let us sink for some stupid mistake like that."

Ross grew quiet, "hint taken, Pete."

"You're a good cop, you'll be a great captain just don't forget those two things, they ain't separate." Peter rose and Ross followed him to the elevators.

"It was good to see you." Ross extended his hand.

"Well, I'd invite you out for a drink, but since you're playing it safe these days…" Peter shook his hand quickly and entered the elevator.

"I can't I've got a desk full of work and I'm really not on the nice list this year."

Peter sighed and as the doors closed he said, "I'll leave my addict here, who's know, right?"

**Max's Tavern**

**7:37 p.m.**

"The Patriot's suck, and so do the Red Sox, two world series ring and all of a sudden they think their a ball team!" Mike Logan hollered at the man sitting next to him. The bar was crowded and filled with men avoiding their families, or worse, their empty apartments. Logan was neither. He wasn't avoiding anything, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Surrounded by guys who wanted to talk sports.

"I don't know man, that Matsuzaka guy is pretty damned good and the team plays like… well like a team!" The gent sitting to his side said, he was swaying a little with drink.

Logan rolled his eyes, he didn't know which bothered him more a man who couldn't hold his drink or didn't know crap about baseball.

"They can buy as many players from Japan as they want, A-Rod sucked, that's why the Yankee's didn't take it this year." Logan took a last long swig off his mug and picked up his keys to go home.

"So if A-Rod sucks so much then why's he back again next year?" A sultry voice from behind him asked.

Logan turned around to see a spectacular blonde eyeing him through her cigarette smoke. She had that half-bored, half-interested look in her eyes that he loved on a woman. Quentin Tarantino could think a wounded ego was fetching, but Logan preferred the healthy kind.

"Miss, are you engaging me in a lively debate in this fine establishment?" Logan leaned over to talk to her in a softer voice.

"No, I'm asking you if you think honestly the Sox have one thing that Yankee's will never have?" She stamped out her cigarette on the ashtray at the bar and signaled him to follow her to a booth.

"And what might that one thing be?" Logan asked, she had walked over to an abandoned booth and sat down. Logan remained standing. She motioned for him to sit and he complied. "And please don't say something pathetic like 'heart' or 'drive'. You're too cute to think crap like that."

She smiled at him and pulled out another long cigarette from her case, her lips parted just a bit and in that second Logan spotted perfect straight white teeth. Her full red lips accepted the cigarette and looked at Logan, waiting.

Logan was enjoying the show too much to pick up on the hint and after a moment of being held in her gaze finally realized he was supposed to light it. The flame of the match flickered in her black eyes and he felt like he had fallen into one of those detective pulp magazines he had read when he was a kid.

She took a long drag off the cigarette, sucking in her cheeks just slightly and then eliciting a long stream of smoke just off to an angle. The smoke curled around above her. Logan had definitely fallen into a pulp novel.

"So what are they missing?"

"A pitching team."

Logan sat back disappointed, he would have to spend the next two hour schooling this woman on the finer points of baseball and the Yankees in general. She was hot, yeah, she was hot, but ignorance like that cannot be allowed to just walk the streets unchecked.

In the background two winos starting singing Christmas carols.

**Falacci Residence**

**7:00 p.m.**

"…may all your Christmas's be white." Mrs. Poirier crooned out with her husband accompanying her on the piano. Nola applauded along with everyone else, but was certain she was alone in hoping that would be the last song of the evening.

"Let's have one more!" Estella said and jumped up.

Nola thought fast, "I should check on dinner." She ran into the kitchen and immediately took off the itchy ugly matching sweater that her mother-in-law insist she put on right away so they could take a family photo. The potatoes were done and waiting on the table, she moved baskets of rolls into the dining room, arranging the table perfectly. She had the last pie on the side-board and stood back to admire the sight. If she didn't have two hand-guns upstairs she could be Martha Stewart. On second thought, yup, she was Martha Stewart!

"Dinner's ready." Nola called in from the dining room.

"You shouldn't shout, it upsets Dad." Estella glared at Nola.

"It's not shouting it's calling into another room, when I shout you'll know." Nola said under her breath to the dreaded sister-in-law. Mrs. and Mrs. Poirier walked in and looked around, their faces dropped quickly.

"Oh dear. Did I forget to tell you that Mr. Poirier's on a strict diet this year?" Mrs. Poirier guided her husband to his seat at the table. He put a napkin in his lap and surveyed the table with disapproval. "I was certain I had told you that when I last saw you."

"You last saw me at Charlie's birthday three months ago, and I don't recall you mentioning it." Nola said getting testy.

"Well, now there's no need to put that tone in your voice. It's a simple mistake and we forgive you." She passed Nola and sat next to her husband, at the head of the table. Nola noticed that the only seat left was between her two children, aged four and five. She looked at Mike who gave her a pleading look.

"What can you eat, Mr. Poirier?" Nola asked.

He turned around and said "heh?"

Nola repeated her question louder, only to get yelled at for shouting again.

"You can make him up some oatmeal. That would be fine, since there's nothing else for him. I suppose that will just have to do." Mrs. Poirier said pertly and took a nice hot roll from the basket.

Nola turned around and walked into the kitchen to start a bowl of oatmeal for her father-in-law.

"I don't see a vegetarian option. If all of these foods have been cooked with the meat I can't eat it." Estella called after her.

Nola was barely holding herself together as she walked into the kitchen and glared out her kitchen window. God, she'd kill to be working.

**Roof of the MoMA**

**8:05 p.m.**

"Bishop, take a look at this." Eames was standing next to the removed pain of glass, "looks like we've got prints on this."

"Good, let's get off the roof now." Bishop said, she couldn't move towards Eames.

"You're kidding." Eames stood up and looked at her.

"I can handle the roof; I'm just not getting close to the open window in the roof." She walked over to the edge and looked around. "We've got some rope burns over here. They actually scaled the wall?"

Eames thought about that. "Wait, there's no way people scaled this wall and no one found it. That's ridiculous."

A CSU member came to the roof and Eames told him to print the pains of glass. He set to work.

"It looks like they entered the roof area here," Bishop was trying to process the scene. There were rope burns and a couple of gouges into the stone. "But they weren't climbing up."

Eames followed her train of thought. She and bishop looked up at the high buildings surrounding them. "They were climbing down."

The CSU behind them picked up the glass to remove it, setting off the alarm, both women jumped at the blaring noise.

**Goren Residence**

**10:45 p.m.**

Goren waved a plate at the fire alarm going off in his kitchen. The chicken he had just purchased was engulfed in flames in the sink and the two pots on the stove had boiled over. He turned the faucet on to kill the fire and opened a window. Fanning hysterically to get the fire out and the alarm off.

His next door neighbor beat on their wall, yelling at him to shut the thing off. Goren took their advice, reached up and yanked if off the ceiling. It continued to buzz. He fumbled to take the back off to remove the batteries, only to drop it on the floor. He pulled the back off, cutting his thumb and pulled the batteries out.

The alarm stopped for a moment and Goren sighed in relief. Then the alarm started again, he looked at it, this time the "low battery" light was on. Thinking fast he threw it out the window. The alarm landed on a parked car and set off the car's alarm.

Goren closed his eyes and wrapped his thumb in a towel.

**Max's Tavern**

**8:25 p.m.**

"You're a nutcase." Michelle tapped his shoulder slightly. She had warmed up quickly to his charm and Logan learned her name on the second try. The badge always put ladies at ease when talking to a strange guy in a stranger bar. What he couldn't get was why she was there at all.

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" Logan leaned in and looked directly in her eyes.

"I can't I have to go to work soon." She leaned back and stamped out her cigarette. "Actually I should go."

"Hey, wait." Logan grabbed her hand, but not too tight. "This has been a fun, don't run off."

"You want me to leave a slipper behind?" Michelle batted her eyes at him.

"Come on, you're number at least." Logan let go of her hand and poured on the Irish charm, too bad she was Italian and immune to such ploys.

"Why don't you come with me." She rose from her seat, Logan followed her to the door and helped her on with her coat.

"Why where do you work?" Logan asked, he sounded suspicious.

"I do a floor show over."

"You're a stripper?" Logan asked, he was actually surprised at himself for not sounded enthused about the prospect of watching her take her clothes off. He wanted to see that, but in the privacy of his apartment, or hers.

"No." She sounded a little offended, but only just a little. Laughing at him she said, "I sing."

"Oh, cool. Like a jazz club." Logan held the door open for her.

Michelle glided past him, "yeah, something like that. Come on, Rudolph."

**Edison Building 87****th**** Floor**

**8:34 p.m.**

"What that red light?" Bishop looked down at the roof of the MoMA from the office of Roger Luckmann. A window had been cut open and used as access to the rooftop.

"It's probably something for them to aim." Eames picked up the equipment left behind by the perps. "So they entered this buildling. Used this office to get into the MoMA, probably slid down a zip line, which they cut after landing."

"Which implies that someone stayed behind." Bishop finished Eames's thought.

"Yeah, but they'd be long gone by now." Eames sighed and then heard a sneeze from the office down the hallway.

Eames and Bishop stared at each other, "you're kidding me, it's that easy?"

The two unholstered their guns and walked into the hallway. Eames took the lead, signally silently to Bishop to follow her lead. Eames used her elbow to open the door slightly ajar; she could see a figure moving around in the room. Eames mouthed 'on three' to Bishop.

"NYPD freeze!" Eames burst through the door, followed by Bishop.

"Oh, my God, don't shoot!" The middle aged stockbroker said from the couch, his topless secretary shot her hand straight into the air. If was as if someone had pressed pause to a porn video.

"Oh, sorry. Uhm, did you hear anyone in that office earlier tonight?" Eames asked, embarrassed.

"No, we just got in." The man asked from his couch.

"Okay, well good to know." Eames holstered her weapons. "Sir just so you know the office next door is a crime scene, you'll have to remain her for officers."

"Roger's office?" The secretary asked.

"Yes, please feel free to put on a shirt." Bishop offered.

"Roger left this company two weeks ago. That office has been unoccupied since." The man sat up, and buttoned his shirt. "Downsizing."

"We can see… oh you mean the office, yes." Bishop couldn't believe she had just said that. Eames shot her a 'shut up' look.

"How long had Roger been with the company?" Eames asked hoping he would simply forget about Bishop.

"Not long, about a month. Really weird too he had a bunch of guys in and out of that office constantly." He began putting his shoes back on and the secretary was finally fully clothed. "Not really sure what he was up to."

"I can hazard a guess." Eames quipped.

**Goren Residence**

**9:54 p.m.**

Goren was done with the carrots and was about to take the chicken out of the oven when the phone rang. He cursed and answered.

"Hello." Goren barked into the phone.

"Oh hello, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

He tried to reach over the oven to open the door, it was a stupid idea to put the chicken in the oven, he bought it cooked, it didn't need to go in, but Chef Goren had to put some potatoes in with it.

"Uhm, I can't really talk right now." He stood on one foot trying to kick off the flame on the stove at the carrots began to boil over.

"Well, it sounds like a code to me." Goren held the phone with his shoulder and kicked the door to the oven open, only to see smoke pour out. The chicken was on fire. The smoke spread quickly, he tried to beat it out with a dishtowel. The dishtowel went up in flames on the second swat. The smoke detector in the kitchen went off.

"Listen, I really can't talk about this. Ask him what kind of music he listens to."

**Mercy Hospital**

**8:30**

"No one blames you, Nola." Mrs. Poirier tapped Nola's hand in mock sympathy. "It's not your fault, how could you know that Estella has been allergic to strawberries since birth."

Estella glared out at her from her swollen cheeks.

"I thought that maybe she would know not to eat that pie." Nola said sitting numbly sandwiched in-between her in-laws. Her husband sat across from her, his arm around his sister, who was doing her best suffering martyr impression to date. Her two sons sat next to him, half-asleep and ready to go to bed. The entire party was sitting the emergency room waiting for a doctor to treat Estella for an allergic reaction to a strawberry pie that she was warned about three times before deciding to take a bite.

The dinner had gone entirely wrong. Nola was in the kitchen preparing oatmeal for her father-in-law while Mrs. Poirier orchestrated the entire meal in her absence, demanding they cut the turkey without her… else it would turn cold.

"You did it on purpose." Estella spat out at her from across the isle. She was making such noise that the two homeless people sleeping on the other side of the room decided it would be fun to watch the family fight.

"Of course she didn't do it on purpose Estella," Mrs. Poirier said. Nola was shocked that she was actually coming to her defense for once. "Nola's not smart enough to poison someone."

"Mom." Mike said.

"Well, it's true. She not like us." Mrs. Poirier still hand Nola's hand in hers. Nola, to her credit didn't say anything. "She's not educated."

"You're a family of high school teachers. It's not like you're all NASA scientists." Nola finally yelled in exasperation.

"Do you see, how she talks to your own mother!" Mrs. Poirier dropped Nola's hand and stood up, she took her daughters hand and walked away.

"Daddy, I want to go home." Nicholas, their youngest crawled into their father's lap and started to cry, setting off his brother into a torrent of sobs. Mike smiled weakly at his wife sitting across from him. His father had fallen asleep on Nola's shoulder and was beginning to drool on her.

"Happy Christmas?" He offered.

"Happy Christmas." She sighed.

**One Police Plaza**

**9:10 p.m.**

Ross looked at the strung out crack head lying on the cot in a cell. He had his arms over his eyes to sleep better and snoring loudly.

"Hey." Ross tapped at him from between the bars. When that got no response he tapped harder. The man's snoring was interrupted, he coughed and sputtered a little.

"What?" The man said without moving or looking at Ross.

"I want to talk with you a bit." Ross sat down in a seat he had brought in from the next room. There were a few other perps in the holding pen, but they were quiet.

"What do you want to talk about Ross?" The man asked.

Ross was startled a little. "How did you know who I was?"

The man sat up quickly making Ross jump back before he realized not even a crackhead can get through bars. "Tonight you will be visited by three ghosts!" The man said in a mockingly eerie voice and holding up a hand encased in a tattered glove he pointed right at Ross. "And I'm the ghost of Christmas future!"

The other perps thought this was hilarious and laughed from their cages. Ross sat back in his chair. "Okay," he was game to play too. "So what do you have to say to me, Ghost of Christmas Future."

"Nope. You've got to pay the toll before you can cross the bridge." The addict went back to sleep.

"Okay, well let's start with your name, can I buy that with a soda?" He held up a can of coke and rattle it slightly against the bars. The addict held out a hand without getting up.

"Robert," he offered and snatched the coke from Ross.

"Okay, Robert, it's nice to meet you, I'm Ross." Ross took out a notepad and clicked his pen awake.

Robert sat up on his cot and looked as though he just realized where he was. "What's going on here?"

Ross looked at him with concern. "Robert, do you know where you are?"

Robert looked at Ross and smiled, "feeding time at the zoo!" He then proceeded to scream at the top of his lungs and run wildly about the 6x7 room as best a crackhead could. Ross watched in mild amusement. What exactly could Goren do with this person?

**King's Grocery Store – about a block from Goren's place**

**9:30**

"Are these fresh?" Goren called out to the grocery.

"Dude, it's like 9:30 on Christmas Eve, what do you think?" Okay, so it's not a grocer, it's some teenager, so sew me I'm not casting this thing!

Goren sighed, as did the author of this fiasco, and put some wilted looking carrots into his cart. The Christmas spirit had caught him earlier. Maybe it was because of something that girl had said, he wasn't sure. Suddenly he wanted to buy a turkey, make some potatoes and put on a movie. Unfortunately the best he could find at that time of night was an already cooked chicken hanging unappetizingly in the window of a Chinese food store. He bought it and went in search of vegetables. He had cans of veggies at home, but he didn't want them. He wanted to peel a potato, to feel his food before he ate it.

That didn't look like it was going to work out just then.

"Hey, buddy, I'm gonna close up soon, are you going to make a decision?" The exceptionally helpful clerk asked from behind his copy of XMEN: Unlimited.

"Just these, thanks." Goren paid and left with his possibly expired vegetables. Outside it was cold and he hurried home.

**Anastasia's – Harlem**

**9:00 p.m.**

Michelle stood on stage, a spot light framing her perfectly. Logan looked around at the crowd, lots of college kids there. He looked back up at Michelle, she was like a goddess on stage. Her big blonde hair cascaded down one side of her face, like Marlene Dietrich. She sat on a lone barstool, one long leg jutting out from the cut of her fabulously tight dress. Logan was enthralled with this woman.

She finished her slow sexy intro and took a breathe into her next song. Her voice crept out of her body like a tiger waiting to pounce, "and that's why birds' do." She looked around at the crowd, "bee's do it." Her voice sounding like she was putting sex into every syllable, "even, educated fleas do it." She stood up and walked to the center stage, the spot light following her, holding her fast with every motion, "Let's do it. Let's fall in love."

The spotlight dimmed a little and Logan could see other people coming onto stage behind her, then the lights blazed on and five men dressed as hot chicks were standing behind Michelle. Logan began to feel a little uncomfortable as the music suddenly had a pulse in it that he was pretty sure Cole Porter didn't intend… oh no wait, yes he did. Cole Porter completely intended this!

Logan felt heat rise from his collar and work its way across his face. His prom queen turned out to be a guy in a dress. Albeit, a really convincing guy in a dress. A guy in a dress who Logan had spent the night talking baseball with. A guy in a dress who had tricked Logan into coming out on Christmas Eve and spending his night at some bar watching other guys in other dresses dance and sing. He considered storming out when he realized, that was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. He was a total stranger and Michelle trusted him enough to let Logan bore him/her to death with baseball and then get him in for free to this fun show. Logan felt the heat leave his face and sat back. Michelle watched him from stage and blew him a kiss. Logan caught it and put it in his pocket.

**One Police Plaza – Holding Cell**

**9:54**

"Okay, just so I have this straight in my head." Ross was pinching the skin between his eyes in frustration. "You followed Alice down the rabbit hole, she took you and Toto to see the Wizard, when you got there he tried to bake you into a pie and you got out by making a wish from the jeanie?"

"In the bottle, you forgot to say in the bottle!" Robert had become slightly more lucid with the introduction of food, but only slightly.

"I'll be right back, I want to make a phone call." He got up and took a few paces, before turning. "Promise you won't go anywhere?"

Robert ran his hands across the bars and smiled.

Ross picked up the phone in the main lobby and dialed, he stuck his hand in his pocket and crossed his fingers.

"Hello? Detective Goren?" Ross asked, he was surprised Goren answered the phone that way.

"Well, I'm not calling about that. Actually I have an addict here who may have witnessed a crime but I can't get him to talk coherently." He could hear Goren moving around in his apartment, it sounded like he was struggling with something.

"I understand you're busy, but I could really use your help. Is there anything you could tell me to say to him, or ask him? He keeps mentioning Alice and referencing the Wizard of Oz." Ross was really pleading with Goren at this point.

Ross looked down at his shoes while he heard an alarm go off in Goren's apartment, he was going to ask if he was okay when Goren said something and hung up.

"What kind of music he listens to? What the hell does that mean."

**Luckmann Residence**

**9:03 p.m.**

Bishop and Eames arrived at the Luckmann residence with a warrant and a team of officers to assist. Eames ran up the front steps to the apartment building and was greeted by the landlord who let her in immediately. She pointed at Luckmann's door.

Inside the apartment she could hear Alice Cooper's music blaring. She winced and looked at Bishop who only rolled her eyes and laughed.

Eames motioned for the officers to follower her in. She knocked on the door and heard some motion on the other side. "Mr. Luckmann?" She called out. No answer. Eames nodded to Bishop who took position on the other side of the doorway. "NYPD, open up."

There was no answer and Eames instructed the officers to knock down the door. The entire company poured inside and saw a manger display sitting in the living room waiting for them.

"We got Luckmann," a uniformed officer said, pulling the thief from the bathroom.

"Great, get him a car." The officer pulled him outside while informing him of his Miranda rights.

"So it really is that easy?" Bishop said looking down at the manger.

"Not really, there had to have been more than one person on this job." Eames noticed all the music poster all over the walls. She thought of Luckmann, he couldn't have been more than 25. "They also had a backer; this is not an art-thief's apartment."

"No, this is a flunky's apartment."

"Well let's get the curator on the phone, she can come and pick it up." Eames sighed, and stooped down to look at the manger display more closely.

Bishop was dialing the museum, when she snapped the phone shut quickly. "Eames, according the museum's directory there is no Victoria Tully working there."

"You're kidding me, we can not be this stupid." Eames yelled and kicked the fake manger display across the room.

**Outside Anastasia's**

**12:00 – Christmas Day**

"Michelle, do you need a lift?" A tall black man asked from the stage's back door.

Michelle smiled and shook her head, "got a ride."

The man and his three friends all catcalled as Michelle walked away with Logan.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank you, that was really fun." Logan walked Michelle to his car. "I'm also not gay."

"Oh sweetie, don't flatter yourself. I'd never sleep with a Yankee's fan."

**One Police Plaza – Holding Cells**

**10:03 p.m.**

"Do you listen to Alice Cooper?" Ross sat back down with Robert.

Robert snapped to attention, "I've been saying that all night. Me and Alice went to the rabbit hole."

"Okay, slow down. You were listening to Alice Cooper and you went somewhere." Ross called over a uniformed officer, "could you reference clubs that play heavy metal with drug problems in the past two years." The cop sat down at the computer behind Ross and began looking.

"Right, but then me and Toto had to go." Robert said.

Ross blew a breath out between pursed lips, "Toto, was a dog in the movie, he a friend of yours, a small guy." Ross suddenly snapped to attention, "Toto's your supplier. You and Toto had to go to get the drugs, so you left the rabbit hole and…"

"We went to the Wizard."

"A manufacturer…" Ross leaned back to make sure the officers was getting all of this.

"We have a known drug supplier, Mac, big Wizard's fan." The picture came up and Robert went crazy.

"That's him man, that's him!"

Ross stood up, "okay, you need to get the arresting officer in here and take a statement, then get your detectives to follow up." Ross stood to leave.

"Hey wait. You won the prize." Robert called from in the cell.

Ross turned around, "what do I get?"

"Bring him back and he'll save your life." Robert said calmly.

Ross felt and eerie sensation crawl up the back of his neck. "What?"

"You lost faith, you need faith. He's got too much faith. Bring him back and he'll save your life." Robert's momentary lapse into clarity was immediately ended with a burst of laughter.

Ross looked at the officer who looked confused, they both shrugged and Ross left.

Upstairs Ross filled out an official request demanding the re-instatement of Detective Robert Goren immediately. He then went home.

**MoMA**

**9:34 p.m.**

Detective Eames had Victoria Tully in custody, she was pacing back and forth waiting for Bishop to come up and confirm what they both believed was true. Bishop came hoofing back into the room.

"Yup, the manger's in her car."

"Why didn't you leave?" Eames asked.

Tully sat there, "you're people were still here, I couldn't leave without drawing suspicion."

Eames looked around, she hadn't left any officers behind, then she remember, the CSU member was still dusting prints. She shouted up to the roof, "Tom, you can come down now, we have her."

"It is that easy." Bishop said and folded her arms across her chest.

**Falacci Residence**

**10:45**

Falacci dragged herself and her sleeping son up to bed. Her husband was right behind her with one in his arms. The tucked the boys in. Falacci threw away her shirt with the father-in-law drool caked on one shoulder. She hugged her husband and crawled under the covers.

Mike crawled in next to her. He snuggled up next to her and whispered, "did you assemble the bikes?"

Nola's eyes bolted open, she threw the covers off herself and went downstairs. There were two incomplete bikes waiting in the garage for her to put together. She pulled out her favorite princess mug and made a pot of coffee. She would be up all night.

**Subway**

**8:00**

Robert Goren ran down the stair just in time to miss his train. He looked around the empty subway station; the draught from above was horrible. He shuddered in his coat and moved down the walkway to avoid the cold. He saw a short woman reading on one bench. He walked up to her.

"May I sit here?" He pointed at the empty half of the bench.

She looked up, "sure."

Robert sat down and looked over at her book, "oh, Phillip Dick. I like him."

She nodded but didn't take her eyes off the book.

"Are you from New York, or are you here for family?" Robert was painfully lonely, so much so that he felt the need to talk to strangers on the subway.

"I'm a demon from hell; I'm out on a weekend pass." She said deadpan and refused to look up from her book.

Robert sighed and went to move away.

"Oh wait," she said. "I just always wanted to say that to some one. It's a good line."

"It is a good line." Robert moved back.

"AnneMarie Donahue."

"Nice to meet you." He held out a hand, "I'm Robert Goren."

"I know, I'm the writing the story you're in."

"What?" Robert looked tired. He wanted to be the sick person, not her. This wasn't her story, it was his, and she just wrote it. Stop trying to steal the scene.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know." Robert said. "It's been a hard year."

"Sorry." She held his gaze. "Maybe next year will be better?" She shrugged her shoulders. He only looked at her. "I know, you sit down next to a total stranger and you really expect them to have all the answers. It should happen, I mean, this is the end of the story, so really you, as the protagonist, should be presented with some lovely little moral to wrap everything up all nice and tidy. But I don't have it for you."

"So what do I do now?"

"I don't know. I haven't written that part, yet."

They sat there quietly. Robert grabbed her hand and held it for a few minutes. It was weird and only lasted a few minutes, sitting on a bench in the subway, holding the hand of a total stranger who was probably deranged, but it was enough.

Robert released her hand and stared straight ahead, "thanks."

"It's okay." Her train pulled in and she stood waiting for people to disembark. She turned around and walked backwards to the train, "oh, Robert. Don't over cook the chicken."

"What chicken?" He always got the last line of the show.

_A merry Christmas to you all_

_And to all a good night._

_See you next week, unless the writers come back._


End file.
